


i really really really want a [REDACTED]

by holographiccatpun



Series: Tapioca Zone [2]
Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Horny, M/M, Multi, Not for the faint of heart, Other, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, a loving dash of tapioca, im not sorry, shout out to the rats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22067965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holographiccatpun/pseuds/holographiccatpun
Summary: Henry was seven when he got his mark.Thirty years later, Paul asks his co-worker if he wants to come on a coffee run.
Relationships: Chad/Greg/Henry Hidgens/Leighton/Mark/Steve/Stu, Henry Hidgens/Ted, Leighton/stu, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Series: Tapioca Zone [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582420
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	i really really really want a [REDACTED]

Soulmates are… strange. 

Henry didn’t always have a mark. Like a good quarter of the human population, his mark developed later. He was seven years old when he came home from school with a black smear on his arm and got the  _ weirdest _ conversation from his father. 

Apparently, while he was learning about rectangular prisms, his soulmate was born. Now whatever they need most will show up on his arm like a fun little mood ring for some random baby somewhere. 

Fun. 

For the next few years, Henry just stares at the smudge on his arm. It feels like that one time his grandfather took him cloud watching, when Grandpa Hidgens kept pointing out different shapes but it all just looked like bad mashed potatoes. He has Bad Mashed Potatoes on his arm. 

When he finally gets an actual word he’s nine years old. The word is Hug. Henry doesn’t know whether to be annoyed or worried. 

It takes until Henry’s fourteen for him to realize his soulmate’s probably not a girl. He watches The Mummy Returns and as much as he likes Rachel Weisz, Brendan Fraser is pretty. His soulmate is seven, so he’s probably starting elementary school soon. Hopefully he doesn’t have a rough time with it. 

Henry Hidgens stops believing in soulmates on his sixteenth birthday. He started dating a cute guy in his science class who doesn’t have a mark, but they’re in  _ love _ . How can some nine year old be “””perfect for him””” when Robbie’s right here? Henry loses his virginity in the back of Robbie's car and then never hears from him again. 

In grad school, Henry lives with six guys. He doesn’t need love or devotion, he just needs dick and friendship. His days of monogamy are over. His soulmate is probably in college somewhere getting his brains fucked out too. It’s fine. 

The boys love him, and he loves them. It’s not some stupid whirlwind like with Robbie, but it’s  _ real.  _ Stu and Leighton are dancing around the fact that they’re soulmates and the boys keep trying to nudge them together. They fuck their anxieties out with Henry and he totally doesn’t coo when Stu moans the wrong name when he comes. For once, it’s actually kind of cute. Henry may not believe in soulmates, but Stu and Leighton are Star Crossed Dumbasses. 

The night before graduation, the boys have an orgy in the living room. It’s a blur of sweat and cum and  _ so. many. cocks.  _ but, God, it’s incredible. They’re all blissed out in the traditional Workin’ Boys Brand Cuddle Zone™ when Leighton pries himself out to give a beautiful speech. Henry’s wiping tears and cum out of his eyes as Leight gets down on one knee and proposes to Stu with a cockring. 

Graduation cums and goes, much like most of the men in Henry’s life for the next few years. He got a job at some rinky-dink little university a few months after the Fuck Bunch’s first official wedding. He starts doing amateur porn to quench his insatiable thirst for cum, but nothing ever truly fixes that. 

And Henry makes sure that all of his friends suffer for it. After all, what kind of friend wouldn’t want to hear all of their local whiny bottom’s woes? 

A bad one.

As it turns out, Emma Perkins is a terrible friend. 

“I’m so fucking  _ bored _ , Em,” Henry whines for the thirty-eighth time today. The shop is empty and he’s practically draped across the counter his silvery hair hanging over into the food in a way that would definitely warrant a citation from the Health Inspector if he actually gave two shits about his job or the people in this town. 

“Sir, please take your coffee and leave.”

Henry squawks, cradling his gallon of iced coffee to his chest. “Emma Leigh Perkins, how  _ dare _ you?”

“My middle name isn’t Leigh?” Emma scrunches her eyebrows together in that one way that makes her look like an underpaid businesswoman in a male-dominated field form 1961.

“I have not been fucked since  _ Graduate school _ , Emma,” Henry bemoans. “I’m allowed to make mistakes.”

Emma sets a pot of coffee down as she glares, reminding him none too gently, “I am not being paid to counsel you.”

-

“Wanna go to Beanies?”

Bill doesn’t even get to look up before Ted pogos up from behind the cubicle, uttering his ancestral battle cry.

“ **B E A N I E S?”**

Paul sighs, turning to look at the coffee gremlin. “You wanna go, Ted?”

“Fuck yeah,  _ Paul _ .” 

Ted, a creature of beans, sex, and rage, is a gentleman and holds the door open for Paul as they leave. The walk to Beanie’s isn’t far, but he still needs to show respect, even as the energy is bubbling up inside him at the thought of seeing his favorite coffee shop employee. 

“I’m just going to be talking with Em,” Paul says, pulling Ted out of his pre-coffee jitters. “You know that right?” 

“Yeah. Don’t care.” Ted looks down at his watch, flicking his eyes over the face before checking his mark. It said  _ coffee _ two minutes ago. Hopefully, his mate could still be in the area.

“Em always wants a nap after this one friend of hers, Henry something, comes to the shop.” Paul pulls up his shirt sleeve to show his mark, a winding piece of black script reading NAP. “How’s yours doing?” 

“He got his coffee,” Ted answers. That’s enough for anyone who knows Ted to know how his mate is doing. Paul grimaces and opens the door, gesturing for Ted to go ahead of him.

“I just need  _ COCK _ !”

Ted freezes in his tracks, looking down at his arm. All his mate has wanted, for as long as Ted can remember, is  _ cockcockcockscoffeecockcockcock.  _

This might be the most important moment of Ted’s life.

Paul comes up behind him, nudging him toward the hot, horny twink. 

“H-hello,” Ted says.  _ Hello _ ,  _ yeah, real sexy. He’s really gonna jump your bones now, genius. _ “Are you Henry?”

“Yes?” Emma left Henry the moment the big weird guy came in, drifting over to tend to her mate. It’s the most soul-crushing form of betrayal. “Who are you?”

“I’m uh, I’m Ted.” He offers out a hand and then retracts it. Awkward. Fucking awkward. It’s not like he hasn’t been practicing for this moment his entire life. “I think I might be your soulmate.”

Henry throws his head back and  _ laughs _ . It’s the most beautiful sound Ted has ever heard. “I don’t  _ believe _ in soulmates, Ned.”

“It’s  _ Ted _ , and look,” Ted offers out his arm, showing his mark. The word  **_COCK_ ** is written in thick, heavy font, covering the entirety of his forearm. The bottom looks at Ted’s arm before rolling his eyes. He can’t lose him. Not after they’ve  _ met. _ He’s gotten too far to give up now. “It’s eleven inches?”

That gets Henry’s attention back, crystalline baby blues looking up at him intently. “Is that a question or a statement, Theodore?”

Ted gulps. “A statement.”

“My car’s out front.”


End file.
